[ they're hidden away of closet from the strained emotions and the blaring loudness of the safehouse. beyond the door there's trauma and loss and dealing with circumstances that were not made by them, but products of an environment that seemed to constantly deal them the wrong hand. as easy as it was to say there were so many things that they could point the finger for—some were just circumstantial, and he hated it. Loki's not good at being a friend, but he knows these feelings, and they're too familiar to not know what to do.

there's a caustic, hard-edged Jason that he shows the world, a passionate one that crawls into his bed when they're alone, and one shattered so many times that the pieces no longer fit together.

the one beneath his fingers now is his, the rest of the multiverse be damned. ]

Well, that's something I haven't heard before. Chaos is what I do. [ he's getting better at navigating his own personal brand of improvisation, the aspect of his nature that old Loki had lost so long ago. ] This most certainly fits the bill. The outcome is never steady, but something changes ...

[ he draws his hips away from the door so Jason can hold on, then settles back again. the arm at his shoulder slides to the other against fabric. there's a quirk of an ironic smile. ]

You've got a head for navigating chaos as much as you've got one for causing it. It may be different when it gets closer, as it shakes the ones around you.